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I more than happily oblige, even if my clit is already sore from his previous attention. Jaromir returns to fucking me hard into the mattress and, oh, I could get used to this.
“Melody,” he says, demanding my attention. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I cry out, right on the cusp of another orgasm. Jaromir feels it, too. He releases my ankles and lays down over me. The pressure drives me over the edge, and I scream his name as I come.
“Jaromir!”
“Melody,” he whispers against my cheek. Then he stops, grunting into my neck as his hips jerk against me. The ceiling spins above me as I try to come back down from such an emotional high. Jaromir peppers kisses against my neck as he forces himself to stand back up, helping me to sit up as well.
He bends down and kisses me again. “I want this,” he says. “No matter where we end up or what happens, I want this.”
“Me, too,” I reply, heart sinking at the memory that he’ll eventually have to go back to his team. I push that thought away. I can’t let it ruin what we have right now. I just want tonight to be about us. How perfect this is.
Jaromir’s stomach begins to growl loudly. I snort out a laugh.
“Think that lasagna has cooled off enough?” he asks.
I nod my head, hiding my laugh behind my hand.
“Yes. I think it’ll be perfect now.”
29
JAROMIR
“Well, bud, I can’t say I doubted you for a minute,” I hear one of the team’s owners say. Out of the three Brewbakers, two are twins. Steve and Ray. Since they both own the team and, unfortunately for me, share absolutely identical faces, I can’t really be sure who it is.
“I appreciate that…” I trail off, knowing they can’t stand it when we call them sir. Apparently, it’s only okay for owners to demand respect when they’re dictating our lives. But beyond that, such as in casual meetings in sprawling conference rooms, we may as well be triplets. “Thank you.”
It’s a clumsy finish and I know it, but I’m too busy wondering why all five suits in the room are grinning. Well, maybe not grinning but smirking.
“Not that you’d be hanging up your mer-jersey any time soon.” He winks and I smile, dancing a jig on the inside that my eyes aren’t crossing right about now. And my fists aren’t flying, either. And not because of mer-jersey, the worst way to describe the uniform of a hockey player. I don’t care if we’re The Mermen, The Mermaids, or the Merhumans.
Mer-jersey is stupid, but they already know that. It doesn’t stop our jerseys from selling like hot cakes. Sure it sells tickets, but it’s also responsible for half of my hangovers.
Mer-jersey.The word echoes in my mind. I clear my throat and do my best to look bashful rather than mortified. The last thing I remember before blacking out on Lake Huron and waking up with a chin full of splinters is hearing the word mer-jersey, then chugging down something dark and hot on my throat.
“Oh, look at that!”
Colin claps one of his brothers on the chest with the back of his hand, before Steve/Ray heaves a laugh. And I meanheaves. It’s another common trait the two share. I have no choice but to tell them they got me.
“Tradition’s tradition, you know?” I explain.
I smell the scent of coconut and realize Drunk Jaromir probably put on sunscreen before his midnight joyride. The safety concerns we have when we’re wasted, I guess… Lake Huron hadn’t been cold in my opinion. A snapshot of me yelling some slurred version of this to an old lady floods my vision. When did I yell at an old lady?
“We’ll have to come to one of your guys’ parties one of these times,” Steve or Ray says. “Seeing you take on a liquor cabinet first hand beats a second-hand story everyday.”
“And video,” Colin adds, tightening his dated tie. “But we’re just busting your balls, kid. Like Steve said, you’re not hanging up your jersey yet. Though you’ve got what it takes to coach. I can tell you that.”
Colin has no idea what he’s talking about. If my coaching career has taught me anything, it’s that too much fun is lazy. Dialing my playfulness down wouldn’t kill me. In fact, it’d probably keep me alive.
“He’s just saying that because all the doctors say that deck didn’t stand a chance against you,” Ray says, motioning to the only silent one of them. “Even this guy, which is why we’re keeping your contract and giving you this.” I look to the doctor as Ray reaches under the table.
I recognize the doctor from one of the multiple exams I’ve had following my physical therapy sessions. He looks different out of his white coat.
“I’m not as impressed with the rest of them, I’m afraid.” He folds his hands and leans against the sleek conference table.
Suddenly, a memory comes rushing back to me, and I can’t hear what the balding suit – a lawyer, I think – next to Colin says to me. A flash of being barefoot and wobbling down to the lake hits me. I can practically feel the bottle in my hand still.
